Wind Chimes

One of the nicest things about The DaM Farm is that it is home to a large array of winds. Springing up from all points of the compass they make their way to our place. Some rest lazily amoung the trees, making the leaves rustle and rub together encouraging friendliness. Others whip around the old buildings making the old scarecrows shiver in their ragged clothes.

In the summer there is nothing better than to sit under century old trees that have perfected giving the best shade. Amongst their branches the winds dance and flirt with each other and so the islands' best breezes are born. These tiny newborn gusts chase and tumble each other over new-mown grass and between rock gardens keeping the heat, humidity and skeeters away. So I sit a while, may-be watch a five pound former feral cat imagine she’s a 500 pound lion as she stalks her prey of butterflies or enjoy a good natured tug of war between a pretty evenly matched mastiff and pit bull despite the size difference.

I’ve always liked hearing wind chimes on my walks; it gives a sense of mystery. A full moon, a starry sky, a faithful old dog by my side on an old country road; then the faint musical swirl of wind chimes. Their gentle sound combines with the soft rustling of tall grass making the frogs’ croaking not so mournful and brightening the cricket’s cheerful chirps. So I started collecting whimsical looking and musical sounding wind chimes to put around our place. I hang them off the veranda’s eves and in the trees around my butterfly garden. Lo and behold, I have been given a delightful gift; because at times, it seems the chimes predict the weather. Sometimes the chimes tinkle merrily – ah, good weather is coming! Other times ominous clanking sounds fall to the ground – oooh, thunderstorm brewing. Imagination tells me my wind chimes can translate the winds’ moods; sometimes loud and boisterous, other times soft and lazy. And every now and then, the chimes’ strings hum and there’s the occasional sweet twang. That’s when I think the winds are remembering distant lands and seas they’ve been, of weather they have created and they adventures they’ve had. Wind storytellers…they have a charm all their own.

Here Come the Chicks

After mulling it over for a couple of years, we decided to start chickens this year. It came as a surprise to me that laying chickens and meat chickens couldn’t live together. I certainly didn’t want to have two coops with their own runs. We really don’t have the room for that. As well, we want to free-range our birds as much as possible; we didn’t even want to touch the logistics of trying to do that with birds that couldn’t be together. Then we found out that there are chickens that are dual-purpose. Aha! We can have our cake and eat it too! The trouble was when we started looking for dual-purpose chickens; we got a lot of blank looks. People at feed stores explained to us very slowly and in simple terms that they had layers and meat chickens, one or the other. The tolerance and patience simply radiated from them. I think I’m going to get a T-shirt that says, “Yes, Here’s Another Danged Person from Away”.

We found a place who ship baby chicks so next week our Buff Orpingtons and Partridge Chanteclers are coming. We thought they were the best breeds to go with. They are both apparently very mellow, laid back chickens and are winter tolerant. The Chanteclers especially since they were developed in Oka, Quebec to be hardy in winter. They are considered to be a heritage chicken, which is nice. We live in an old farmhouse so having heritage chickens runs with our theme. I hope the flight goes OK for them. I hope they are not traumatized out of their little chicken heads. I hope I can get them home and settled very quickly. I hope they like their brooder. I hope we get the coop built soon. Days old chicks – they seem so young, so little, so fragile, it’s really kind of frightening. Wait till they hear that at the feed store – that Person From Away scared of itty bitty baby chicks.

How We Ended up in PEI in the First Place

We moved to PEI four years ago. It was certainly a big move from urban BC to rural PEI. Despite what it says in my blog description, it's not really 'the wilds', just feels that way to this city-slicker sometimes.

The idea of living more simply appealed to us. We often talked about growing our own food and how nice it would be to have a little hobby farm. What did we know of rural life? Not a whole lot by any stretch of the imagination. We both lived in towns or suburbs all our lives. What I knew of farming come from my moms' side of the family. Some of my fondest memories are visiting my grandparents (Hilda & Bernie) on the farm where my mom grew up. My grandparents taught me the joy of farm life simply by living it. Don liked the idea of being more self-sufficient. He always had a interest in running a hotel and so naturally the prospect of perhaps having a B&B when he retired was very appealing.

As in most long-held dreams, the practical realities were virtually ignored. Ah, we'd figure out the septic system, well water, etc when we got there. My visions included me bending over a well tended patch of garden, lovingly picking some tender vegetable for that night's supper, or basket in hand, picking wildflowers in the sunshine. Fighting with a stubborn wood furnace, kids grouching about having to weed 'all the time'and power outages that meant the water well didn't work didn't even figure in my scheme of things.

One day Don wandered into the kitchen one day and said, "There's a job in PEI that sounds good, what do you think?" "Oh sure," says I, "I always wanted to retire in PEI." Now, that might sound a little blase, and the truth be known, it was. This wasn't the first time Don considered change. He had mentioned several locations over the years, including Australia and China. I have learnt to go with the flow. Sometimes we move, most times we don't. But he landed the job, so good-bye day-dreams, hello reality. We went in the dead of winter. In the middle of school. When it's cold in PEI. Less than a month's notice. When there's snow in PEI. But the kids being homeschooled helped a lot. I work well under pressure so a month's time was more than ample. Unfortunately, there's wasn't much I could do about the time of year (when it was really cold).

My remark about wanting to retire in PEI was actually true. I had visited PEI as a young child. I was about 10 or so. Right in the middle of reading the "Anne" books and I found the whole island to be magical from the red sands to the patchwork of fields stitched with old wooden fences. When I was in my twenties, I decided to vacation again in PEI. Everyone told me wouldn't be the same, it would be magical anymore because I was no longer a child. But it was still as magical to me and I left wanting to retire here. Hey, when you find magical, you hang on to it.

The idylic vision of living in a beautifully restored (by us, no less) old farmhouse turned into cold, cold hard realization that for every one thing we knew about that had to be fixed, updated or restored, there were ten things we didn't know about that had to be done. Cold facts and cold farmhouse - not much insulation way back when. Organic gardening involves a lot of mucking around in compost and (shudder) manure, battling bugs and trying to convince the cat that the gardens are not her personal king-size litterboxes salted around our property for her convience. And boy, does the list go on...and on...and on... And yet, the magic, the dream, is still here inspite or may-be even because it is now tempered with reality, challenge, and best of all, fulfilment.

Our House

Our house was built in the late 1800s. When we were looking at houses, we did want an old house preferably with at least 4 acres of land. We saw lots and lots of houses in various states of disrepair. One thing that knocked a house off our list of potentials was a clay, stone or earth basement. That narrowed our list by a good 90%. One thing that truly amazed me were the amount of houses with acreage with absolutely no trees on the property at all. Nary a branch, twig or sapling to be found. It just seemed sort of sad to me.

We picked this house because it had old trees and a concrete basement. We didn't get as much land as we would have liked, it's only an acre plus but it's enough for us to have gardens, rabbits and chickens and a peaceful, quiet place to call our own. It is a trade off but I love trees and couldn't imagine a place that had none.

Some day I would like to remove all the siding and restore or replace the cedar shakes. The gable on the second floor had the gingerbread shakes. I'd like to replace the dining room doors that open to the veranda and put in a bay window as that is how it was originally. We do a little bit here and there, new windows, new roof, lots of insulation. It'll take time but the house has been around for over a century - it's used to waiting.

Signs of Life in the Herb Garden

When we first moved here, one of the first things I did was make a herb garden. Since I didn't have a clue of what I was doing, I decided to start small and learn along the way. I've learnt a lot, especially when to harvest herbs like chamomile and St. John's Wort. Before growing them, I would have never thought 'deceptive' would be a description for herbs.

On the whole, the garden has done pretty well and it is very cool to make tinctures, remedies and oil infusions with herbs I have grown and know to be organic through and through. Not to mention picking fresh herbs to throw right into a meal. So I'm thinking of enlarging it this year. It's only about 3 x 20 ft. I have had some success with lasagna or layer gardens last year, I'm hoping I can do that method for expanding this garden.

A couple of days ago, I decided to see how my herb garden was fairing. Since it was a warmish day, or what passes for 'warm' this time of year, I decided to out to pull away all the leaves. I let the leaves stay all winter just for a little protection for the perennials. I was surprised at all the green underneath the brown wet leaves. The comfrey, sage, mint, lemon balm, catnip, oregano and chives all have shoots. It's really nice to be outside in the cool wind but bright sun picking up wet, brown, dead leaves of Autumn past and seeing the tender green new life of Spring. Right now it's more of a promise than a prediction of warm weather, but as the saying goes, "Hope 'springs' eternal".

RATS!!!

Last Sunday was just a beautiful day, warm and sunny. Everybody here went outside to help in the veggie garden. Don was in the great hay bunny poop pile separating the composted part from the mostly hay part and shovelling the composted stuff into the wheelbarrow. P, teen-age son, was dumping it in the garden and T, teen-age daughter, and I were spreading it around. I'm just about glowing with happiness, I'm back in my beloved gardens with the-whole-family-pitching-in-and-having-a-good-time-anyways thing going on. People are passing in their cars, beeping and waving. We're waving back when we know them and even when we have absolutely NO clue on who they are.

So there we, having a good time when everything went sideways with the stroke of a shovel. Seems a mama rat thought the hay pile would be an excellent place to raise some youn'uns. Don's shovel hit smack in the middle of the nest. Mama runs away, three of the babies run away but the last baby must have been hit by Don's shovel. It is crippled and screaming blue murder. Don is white, P is looking like he might toss his lovely breakfast all over his shoes. T's face is frozen in sheer horror, her hands over her ears to block out the little rat's screaming. I grab a shovel to smack the rat and end it's pain. I hesitate, I'm not thinking this is an image I want my family to have of me. Besides, even though it's an ugly rat, it still should be dispatched as humanely as possible. I don't want to have to whack it more than once which might happen if I use the shovel. I run inside grab my trusty pellet gun and do away with the baby rat. Ew. Did I mention the little critter tried to bite me when I picked it up? Ew. Good thing I was wearing gloves. Ew. Wonder where the other ones went. Have I said "Ew" yet? Let me reiterate - EW, EW, EW! Where's the stupid cat when you need her? Oh year, right - she's having a nap on my bed.

Anyhow, we are going to have to do something about our waste hay management because I don't think I want to start a haven for rats. It's not too bad in the summer because it turns to compost really fast. It's the winter that's the problem, it just sits there and beacons the wildlife.